Disclaimer: Funnily enough, they continue to not belong to me. Well gee.
Author's Notes: Yes! Finally it is here! Five false starts later, chapter three is finally complete! I have no idea why this chapter was so hard to write. I hope you all like it. It made me emotional. Also, thank you, thank you, thank you for all the nice comments that were left after chapter two. I thrive on feedback. Hopefully this chapter doesn't disappoint either. As per usual reviews are most welcome, constructive criticism encouraged, flames ignored.
"Donna?"
I am sitting at my desk with my head face down on my arms so that my response comes out something like; "Mmmphm?"
I can practically hear CJ's worried frown, "Are you alright?" she asks coming to stand beside my chair.
Turning my head towards her slightly so that my voice isn't so muffled when I say, "Sure." I don't really look at her when I speak because I know she knows I'm lying.
It's been a week since that awful night in Josh's apartment. Five days since the funeral. I'm sure that the only person in the building who has had less sleep than me in that time is Josh. And that's saying something because I don't think I've slept more than six hours in the last three days. I can't eat, I can't even think half the time and if I have to go through another day of watching Josh wandering aimlessly through the halls like a wraith I'm going lose it. In short, I am not 'alright'. Not even close.
And I won't be. Not until he is.
CJ gives me a sad little half smile and sighs, "Okay." She hesitates a moment before saying, "How is he?"
Very slowly I lift my head from my arms and stretch, carefully considering my reply. I open my mouth, shut it again. Finally I shake my head, "We're talking about Josh here CJ. How do you think he is?"
CJ nods, "Yeah." She says sounding about as tired as I feel, "yeah." She looks absently around the bullpen then says, "look, Donna I hate to.... But I have this thing..."
I wave her quiet. I wish people would stop doing this. Josh needs work right now. He needs normalcy. He needs to worry about education reform and tax cuts and drug control. Anything to get that horrible wounded look out of his eyes. He doesn't need people tiptoeing around him as though they're afraid he might suddenly shatter into a million pieces. "He's in his office," I say, gesturing vaguely at the closed door.
"Right. Thanks." I watch CJ disappear into the office, then I sink back down onto my desk.
For about the millionth time this week I have to suppress the urge to cry. What do I do? I mean, what the Hell do I do? I know Josh better than anyone else in my life. I understand him. I know I can't protect him completely but I've never failed to shield him just a little. Until now. I have seen Josh in pain, I have seen him grieve, I have seen him afraid, I have seen him angry, helpless, frustrated, confused. I have never seen him so utterly and completely lost. And I have never been so powerless to help him.
Shifting position slightly, I bite back a yelp as a spasm of pain jolts through my right leg. Digging the heel of my hand into my thigh I hold my breath until the muscles relax and the pain abates. I have abandoned both crutches and cane in the past week. I've been spending so much time with Josh it's become impossible to use either walking aid without him noticing and I will not, will not have him worrying about me. Josh is doing fine in the pain department without my stupid physical problems helping him along.
The door to Josh's office opens, causing me to jump so violently I bump my knees against my desk and send a stack of files cascading to the floor. I stoop to pick them up as CJ emerges from the office with Josh following behind her.
"Donna?" Josh calls. He doesn't have the energy to bellow for me like he usually does.
"Down here." I'm on my hands and knees fishing stray pieces of paper out from beneath my desk when he comes around the corner. He looks at me blankly, "Hi," I say with a wry smile.
I wait for the obligatory wisecrack but it doesn't come. Instead, Josh rubs the back of one hand across his eyes and says, "CJ and I have to go see Toby, could you hold my phone calls for the next little while?"
I heave myself to my feet using the desk as leverage, "Ok, but Matt Skinner is coming to see you in half an hour remember?"
"Yeah." He looks like Hell. His face is drawn and pale, practically grey with fatigue. There are lines around his mouth and eyes that I've never noticed before. The overhead lights throw the angles of his jaw and the shadows under his eyes into sharp relief, as though pain has embossed itself into his face.
I pretend not to notice, "Have you had lunch?" I ask instead, "I was about to go to the mess." A lie. The rock in the pit of my stomach has replaced my need for food.
"I'm not hungry."
I purse my lips, "Whatever, but when you collapse from starvation in the middle of the Oval Office, don't come crying to me." Josh just stares. I try again. "I could get you a salad. You need greenery." It's like trying to banter with a brick wall and he knows it. Josh opens his mouth to make a retort but there's nothing there. "You're gonna get scurvy. Your teeth'll get loose and fall out of your head." I glance sidelong at him. " No girls will like you then." I get a tiny, tiny, ghost of a smile at that.
"Donna, I have to..." Josh says, gesturing at CJ who is waiting a little ways off.
"Yeah, ok. Did you know that in 1795, the British Royal Navy provided a daily ration of lime or lemon juice to all its men to prevent scurvy? That's why English sailors are called "limeys", 'cause that was the term for both lemons and limes back then."
Josh shakes his head and sighs heavily, "I did not know that." He says obligingly.
"Well, that's obviously why you keep me around." I say, with a smirk, "I'm getting you a salad."
"Whatever." Josh says distractedly, turning to go. I watch him leave, clutching a sheaf of paper to my chest like a shield. As soon as he is out of sight, I collapse back in my chair with a noise that is half sob and half sigh.
To be honest? I'm afraid he might suddenly shatter into a million pieces too.
I just hide it better.
Author's Notes: Yes! Finally it is here! Five false starts later, chapter three is finally complete! I have no idea why this chapter was so hard to write. I hope you all like it. It made me emotional. Also, thank you, thank you, thank you for all the nice comments that were left after chapter two. I thrive on feedback. Hopefully this chapter doesn't disappoint either. As per usual reviews are most welcome, constructive criticism encouraged, flames ignored.
"Donna?"
I am sitting at my desk with my head face down on my arms so that my response comes out something like; "Mmmphm?"
I can practically hear CJ's worried frown, "Are you alright?" she asks coming to stand beside my chair.
Turning my head towards her slightly so that my voice isn't so muffled when I say, "Sure." I don't really look at her when I speak because I know she knows I'm lying.
It's been a week since that awful night in Josh's apartment. Five days since the funeral. I'm sure that the only person in the building who has had less sleep than me in that time is Josh. And that's saying something because I don't think I've slept more than six hours in the last three days. I can't eat, I can't even think half the time and if I have to go through another day of watching Josh wandering aimlessly through the halls like a wraith I'm going lose it. In short, I am not 'alright'. Not even close.
And I won't be. Not until he is.
CJ gives me a sad little half smile and sighs, "Okay." She hesitates a moment before saying, "How is he?"
Very slowly I lift my head from my arms and stretch, carefully considering my reply. I open my mouth, shut it again. Finally I shake my head, "We're talking about Josh here CJ. How do you think he is?"
CJ nods, "Yeah." She says sounding about as tired as I feel, "yeah." She looks absently around the bullpen then says, "look, Donna I hate to.... But I have this thing..."
I wave her quiet. I wish people would stop doing this. Josh needs work right now. He needs normalcy. He needs to worry about education reform and tax cuts and drug control. Anything to get that horrible wounded look out of his eyes. He doesn't need people tiptoeing around him as though they're afraid he might suddenly shatter into a million pieces. "He's in his office," I say, gesturing vaguely at the closed door.
"Right. Thanks." I watch CJ disappear into the office, then I sink back down onto my desk.
For about the millionth time this week I have to suppress the urge to cry. What do I do? I mean, what the Hell do I do? I know Josh better than anyone else in my life. I understand him. I know I can't protect him completely but I've never failed to shield him just a little. Until now. I have seen Josh in pain, I have seen him grieve, I have seen him afraid, I have seen him angry, helpless, frustrated, confused. I have never seen him so utterly and completely lost. And I have never been so powerless to help him.
Shifting position slightly, I bite back a yelp as a spasm of pain jolts through my right leg. Digging the heel of my hand into my thigh I hold my breath until the muscles relax and the pain abates. I have abandoned both crutches and cane in the past week. I've been spending so much time with Josh it's become impossible to use either walking aid without him noticing and I will not, will not have him worrying about me. Josh is doing fine in the pain department without my stupid physical problems helping him along.
The door to Josh's office opens, causing me to jump so violently I bump my knees against my desk and send a stack of files cascading to the floor. I stoop to pick them up as CJ emerges from the office with Josh following behind her.
"Donna?" Josh calls. He doesn't have the energy to bellow for me like he usually does.
"Down here." I'm on my hands and knees fishing stray pieces of paper out from beneath my desk when he comes around the corner. He looks at me blankly, "Hi," I say with a wry smile.
I wait for the obligatory wisecrack but it doesn't come. Instead, Josh rubs the back of one hand across his eyes and says, "CJ and I have to go see Toby, could you hold my phone calls for the next little while?"
I heave myself to my feet using the desk as leverage, "Ok, but Matt Skinner is coming to see you in half an hour remember?"
"Yeah." He looks like Hell. His face is drawn and pale, practically grey with fatigue. There are lines around his mouth and eyes that I've never noticed before. The overhead lights throw the angles of his jaw and the shadows under his eyes into sharp relief, as though pain has embossed itself into his face.
I pretend not to notice, "Have you had lunch?" I ask instead, "I was about to go to the mess." A lie. The rock in the pit of my stomach has replaced my need for food.
"I'm not hungry."
I purse my lips, "Whatever, but when you collapse from starvation in the middle of the Oval Office, don't come crying to me." Josh just stares. I try again. "I could get you a salad. You need greenery." It's like trying to banter with a brick wall and he knows it. Josh opens his mouth to make a retort but there's nothing there. "You're gonna get scurvy. Your teeth'll get loose and fall out of your head." I glance sidelong at him. " No girls will like you then." I get a tiny, tiny, ghost of a smile at that.
"Donna, I have to..." Josh says, gesturing at CJ who is waiting a little ways off.
"Yeah, ok. Did you know that in 1795, the British Royal Navy provided a daily ration of lime or lemon juice to all its men to prevent scurvy? That's why English sailors are called "limeys", 'cause that was the term for both lemons and limes back then."
Josh shakes his head and sighs heavily, "I did not know that." He says obligingly.
"Well, that's obviously why you keep me around." I say, with a smirk, "I'm getting you a salad."
"Whatever." Josh says distractedly, turning to go. I watch him leave, clutching a sheaf of paper to my chest like a shield. As soon as he is out of sight, I collapse back in my chair with a noise that is half sob and half sigh.
To be honest? I'm afraid he might suddenly shatter into a million pieces too.
I just hide it better.